Paxton Fettel thought that this time he was good in the ass. During all these years he had always seen death as a trivial detail of existence, as a necessary step towards the Nexus. Probably because he does not really thought about this question.
When he awoke in this place he identified as the hell he was first struck by the absence of heat. His head was spinning, and he managed to vaguely distinguish sharp rocks that stood everywhere around him. A muffled sound of metal being hit was lost in the distance. But the first reaction of Paxton was to be surprised not to sweat in his armor.
This mythical place, several wise men of Egypt Fock he had once spoken as a child. Terrified, he listened with fascination the legends about this country populated by evil creatures, where they burned for eternity. And now he was there, he found that sense of deep fear he felt and heard previously mentioned "Hell exists."
And it did exist. His eyes gradually became accustomed to his new environment, and when he stood up to look beyond the sharp rocks around him, a scrawny dragon passed over his head. The animal paid no attention to him. She was in advanced state of putrefaction, and you could see the bones in places appear in his flesh devoured by flies.
Paxton, transported by the smell of the animal that is not over a fraction of a second, could not help vomiting. He scanned the horizon and realized they were in a valley surrounded by cliffs reddish, amidst a forest of rocky peaks. Patchy human bodies were skewered on very sharp rocks, and somehow that reassured Paxton. At least they were not alone with dragons.
To his surprise, he saw that tears were streaming down her cheeks. It was often what was happening when the events exceeded, which was not so common.
All this was not any sense! Everyone knew full well that there was no life after death. If this were the case, the Knights were unable to think to survive. If life offered us a second chance, it became vain to preserve.
A worse thought possessed his mind. If hell exists undeniably, it would then say that his misdeeds had led him there. He thought of the bleak life that would lead people if they thought it would be judged at the end, and cried harder.
-Damn, he whispered, I want to die ...
He removed his helmet and gave a kick in the ship against a rock. He looked up at the cliffs and began to develop a plan. For its narrow-minded Knight, hell no different not really a dungeon or a winding forest magic was a new mission.
He began his journey through the harsh and unforgiving land, and calculated that it would take out two days walk to the cliffs.
When Paxton Fettel met other humans, he gave them an early look fast, confusing them with the corpses he met frequently since the beginning of his journey. When one of them shouted the knight, he jumped so violently that his armor plates sounded like bells.
men who approached him were stunted. Their skin seemed ready to fall, taking in spots of purple shades, and dozens of flies strolling merrily on their balding without having seemed to bother them. Paxton preferred to cut short the conversation and announced he wanted to arrive before dark cliffs.
"There is no night here, one of the men smiled with an air of quiet amazement. We have fire and mattresses, come to rest instead of going to die of exhaustion.
-Because you can die again? Paxton asked.
"It is an expression, man.
Paxton sat down with men who seemed to be already dead a few good hundred times. Some even wore bloody wounds still subjects of which they grumbled softly.
They devisèrent about life after death, and Paxton denied the obvious. For him the very existence of a second chance was stupid, encouraged procrastination, and violated the code of chivalry. He went to bed on a small pile of straw that hardly softened the hardness of the stone floor. He tried to ignore, but the roar of dragons in the distance, and the awful smell that came from his companions in misfortune, he got on the nerves.
Once he was quite sure that everyone was asleep except for him, he took leave of men quietly rotting. He retired to it a few pieces of his armor, including his leg and his breastplate.
He walked for hours, hiding from the giant creatures that lurk among the rocks or in the air. Actually, the more it approached the cliffs, the more their number increased. Dragons were added to the harpies and the chimeras. The hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, he advanced as well as possible with a heavy step. The fear of ending up looking like the men he had met had replaced the fear of death.
He finally arrived at the foot of the cliffs. A wall of rock stood between him and the exit, he was convinced. The certainty that the real world was beyond this accursed valley came to him very quickly. Paxton Fettel was a knight who loved to trust your intuition.
He got rid of the last plates of his armor and his sword and his shield. With a lightness that he was more accustomed, he began to climb the cliff.
The rock cutter slashed her hands and feet, but Paxton continued to rise vigorously. The wild hope of an exit as possible kept in the air and prevented from falling. Several times he missed a catch, or a piece of stone broke under his weight, but still he caught himself. "So many do it in one go" he thought.
he did. Having lost track of time, he did not know exactly how many hours he spent climbing the wall and rockery. Every time he looked down below, the ground did not seem to have moved. But the perseverance of a true knight is something unusual, and he was not discouraged, however.
When his hand fumbled a ground earth, yet more tears flowed down her cheeks. He climbed in, using its remaining strength, and found himself on the plateau overlooking the valley.
He was right: In front of him, out of sight, lay a thick oak forest from which emerged an anarchic Haussmann buildings. Between the trees grew traffic lights and billboards. He even saw a wild boar that emerged from a subway staircase.
Before he had time to think, a hint of pain attacked him and forced him to lean against a tree. The wound he had opened the chest of a sudden, and his blood was spread widely in the grass.
Every breath was more painful than the last, and he almost regretted not staying in hell. Limping, he enlisted in the forest, relying on his sense of direction to compensate for his blurred vision. He turned to a great oak he thought he recognized, and up the Boulevard St. Martin, which was invaded by weeds.
He knew that this was only a matter of minutes before it is no longer able to stand. His hand compressing the wound between the ribs, trying in vain to keep the bleeding. His view was was murkier.
He cut through an alley, and rushed toward the building he knew. He tapped the door code to the blind, and entered the cool, tiled hall. His legs gave way and he had to make an effort to gently stretch the floor and does not collapse.
"It is really stupid," he said.
He was left with a staircase to climb, that was it. He had crossed the sea of rock, avoided the chimeras, climbed a fucking cliff, and it was not even able to climb a few floors.
When the door of the building opened, Paxton Fettel was already unconscious. A mustachioed man burst into the hall holding two sports bags, which he dropped when he saw our hero. And despite the spectacular slap he got to wake up, Paxton could not help smiling.
Note: You're not militant atheist
Soon: Vincent very caring
.png)
.jpg)
